


And I'm Home

by heavensfeel



Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensfeel/pseuds/heavensfeel
Summary: No matter what happened, their fates were too entwined together, and being together was only an inevitability.Nothing makes sense without you. It'll always be you. Home, is where you are.
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 15
Kudos: 73





	And I'm Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enlaurement24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enlaurement24/gifts).



Their lives were on a practically identical trajectory, unified in direction by the strings of fate with their myriad points of connections. It took what seemed like an eternity however, for them to realise that they were looking for something that had been right beside them all along.  
  


* * *

_  
“Hey, I play the violin too!”_

_“Haha I hate my life but I’ll see you next week, yeah?"_ Brett said, which then became _“It’s you!”_ much, much sooner than expected when they saw each other the very next day.

Being the two youngest of the youth orchestra, they found themselves banding together for a sliver of support and comfort – lest they quiver and collapse from the anxiety of the pressure-cooker environment, demanding them to be the best, pushing them again and again, relentlessly, questioning them, why are you here? What will you do? What do you want to achieve? Again and again, they got up, because they looked at each other, and in the other’s eyes saw a reaffirmation of what they wanted – to be true musicians.

There were shared desires whispered into the cold air, in darkness, and carried away by the wind as the words passed each other’s ears gently: _“I want to go to the conservatory”, “I don’t want to go into med school”, “I want to get good at the violin”, “I want to become a soloist”_. The future of a classical musician was both clear and misty, with the guiding light of an overwhelming passion for what kept their lives vivid – music – and the obvious uncertainties of said career path. And yet, they weren’t so alone in their decisions and they sauntered into their futures boldly at the Queensland Conservatorium.

Visits to Taiwan together, back to their homeland – they came from the same place, and landed in the same place in a foreign land! – when Chinese New Year Eve came around, and they remembered the crunch of the gravel beneath their feet as they traipsed through each other’s neighbourhoods and re-enacted for each other their children’s games, eyes sparkling in delight at how similar their recollections were, how familiar and homely their shared feelings were.

The New Year was also a time for fireworks and sparklers, and so they threw themselves into it. Dozens of lit sparklers that passed through their hands were used to spell dumb things like “Eddy smells” and “Dumbass Brett”, which in retrospect, were kind of cringy, as bad as their oldest TwoSet videos banished from existence permanently.

But the alluring and fierce fizzles of those sparklers could never compare to the wild cacophony of fireworks in Eddy’s heart and Brett’s tummy as they recalled that memory, which sputtered and transmogrified into a riot of seemingly never-ending laughter at the sheer ridiculousness and juvenility of it all. Despite the stupidity of their antics, they would never renounce it for all the world.

They had the same humour, and parrying each other’s jibes never took very long as they would simply give in, laughing rancorously in the aftermath. It’s really no different from their viola jokes of “it’s shit” being the funniest shit they could come up with even though the other viola jokes had more thought put into them. They simply savoured the moments where they cackled like there was no tomorrow, the world rushing away from their field of vision while they were unable to stop the insane laughter that spilt out, that made it impossible to breathe. There was nowhere else they’d rather be, so long as there were enough simple joys shared with each other, playing the music of their own lives, the music of their lives, the all-powerful, all-encompassing music that pulled them together like gravity.  
  


* * *

  
And then their individual trajectories were no longer just a hazy general direction into “soloist/musician” as Brett Yang and Eddy Chen, as individuals. Their individual lives collided, converging and solidifying into a single trajectory: TwoSetViolin, where they walked identical paths with their brainchild of a channel. They were now inseparable – their age gap and different years at school didn’t matter anymore. They were taking their first steps and venturing into a vague future, together.

At that point, in the beginning, they didn’t know it yet. The channel was a side thing initially, simple sketches and random ideas that they took and ran with, as and when they sprouted. It was pure unadulterated joy that bubbled with their videos, the channel was but a natural extension of their interweaved lives with every other wild and chaotic moment they spent together growing up, and it never seemed more out of the ordinary than it was.

TwoSet didn’t exactly seem like _the_ future yet.

After all, they were living in different parts of Australia and playing in different orchestras. Yet, they were never far from each other’s minds, when TwoSet kept drawing them closer and tighter together, inextricably.

Far from sight, but all-permeating in their consciousness was the absence of the other that they felt so keenly. They texted almost every day to keep the other firmly embedded in their lives, to plug the strange gaping emptiness they felt. This yawning emptiness grew sharper with each passing day, which became increasingly difficult to bear. But it was alleviated in part by how they kept going with creating things for TwoSet. Thinking, discussing, creating, laughing, editing – it was a comfortable routine for them that elicited the same sort of memories as when they were younger and physically near more often.

They never figured out what that gaping hole signified, only that things somehow seemed whole again whenever they were finally together churning out videos after videos in their spare time. The Australian internet that their crappy salaries paid for gave them laggy phone calls and video chats, but they plowed through nonetheless, when that bizarre knot in their hearts seemed to relax and unravel in the presence of the familiar face staring back at them. It was a comfortable feeling, almost like… home.

At some point in time, they realised the videos were taking off – their relatable content and unusually strong chemistry thrust them into the spotlight as more and more viewers took notice and started following them. Sure, it wasn’t exactly what they set out to do, and it would mean definitively giving up their dreams of becoming professional players, and most definitely a soloist.

But the answer never seemed clearer to them. Seven hours of practice for a mediocre shot at that dream and giving everything up, his friends and family… or an equally uncertain gamble at Youtube?

Brett was a daredevil, bolder than Eddy, and never one to bow to pressure. (Well, he knows how to apply the right pressure to the bow… he controlled the bow, the bow didn’t control him.) Life gave him opportunities, and he would be fool to be remiss to them. He knew it was what he wanted, to be pursuing something that filled his soul oh-so-completely and satisfyingly. He was doing music with somebody who kept his passion in music alive and strengthening it, and it was a no-brainer.

Eddy knew instinctively that he would never want to spend his life chasing for something that he wasn’t sure about – the soloist life was long and lonely. He had the chance, and despite his reservations and his mother’s oscillations between anger and worry, he knew that he had to take it. Eddy Chen was nothing without Brett Yang, and being a soloist while giving his best friend up? Besides, Brett wanted in. Eddy didn’t want to be left behind, he wanted to continue waking up grinning, making music with his best friend. He would never be lonely, if he was with Brett.

_We’re having so much fun, and we’re succeeding while still being musicians. It’s everything we’ve wanted. Let’s do it. Together.  
  
_

* * *

  
Brett and Eddy’s paths were sealed, locked, and now identical, when they quit the Sydney and Queensland Symphony Orchestras and embarked on their new life that brought them the closest they’d ever been. The lines of personal and professional lives blurred. They were “Brett and Eddy”, they were “the duo from TwoSetViolin”, never simply Eddy or Brett.

World tour 2017-2018. They spent the years making videos, busking, and travelling. They were closer than they’d ever been before, practically living together and doing everything together. It was… new. They’ve always been close friends, no holds barred as they struggled through the rugged terrains of music, studies and family together, and even each other’s endless lines of girlfriends that never did quite work out. Doing everything together without having to exchange stories? That was definitely new.

Life settled into a comfortable rhythm centred around TwoSet. Like the constant thrumming of their heartbeat, regular and clockwork and peaceful, they made videos, while dealing with the banalities that came with such a life, like when they messed up a video and had to reshoot, perpetual camera focus issues, collapsed lighting, the editing software hanging, losing the memory cards, among a bunch of other things that could go wrong with their routine.

This comfortable rhythm didn’t last very long, however, as their ideas for a world tour took flight that year, a spontaneous idea that burst out and Brett reached out to grasp it firmly, refusing to let it go. Eddy felt himself pulled into it, as he always did when he looked into Brett’s bright, determined eyes intently and heard the excitement in Brett’s voice, that he couldn’t resist.

Life with Brett, he decided, was a never-ending chain of surprises. Whatever Brett came up with, he’d leap into it, and he knew it. That was a certainty, as certain as the rhythm of his heartbeat, that told him so. And so TwoSetViolin took flight, very literally.  
  


* * *

  
Brett Yang and Eddy Chen didn’t need to be a couple. They were literally an old married couple without needing to be married, because they already almost-lived together, did everything together, practiced together, ate together more times than they could count on their fingers, knew each other’s coffee and bubble tea orders by heart, what to order for Chinese takeout or pizza, and tiny regular things and oddities that would’ve taken married couples years to know.

Truth be told – if they’d gotten together as a couple, there would be no honeymoon period. After all, honeymoons end when couples become disillusioned with each other, that somehow the new dating or married life didn’t live up to what it promised. Brett and Eddy never fought, because they were past the point of disillusionment about each other.

Eddy was a younger brother of sorts and an all-round annoying and clingy brat sometimes, but also the most brilliant mind Brett knew, his intelligence far surpassing Brett’s. Brett was a lot more unfocused, blunt and cutting as well, which annoyed Eddy. But because they’ve already seen all that and had a couple of huge fights as angry adolescents and still stuck by each other, they knew that they could be themselves to each other. They grew up, through the roughest patches of adolescence together, and somehow anything after was a breeze.

That being said, neither happened to be very successful in their romantic relationships. They were lukewarm and fizzled out quickly through their school days, but it didn’t seem like much when those school romances were juvenile, small crushes loaded with societal expectations of making much out of them, only to realise that it was a lot more exhausting than it was satisfying.

In fact, they spent more time at orchestra and classes and practicing with each other than they did with their girlfriends. If the teenage romance was supposed to have derailed them from their steady progress, it only made them certain that they couldn’t have their cake and eat it too, and refocus their energies on orchestra. Besides, girls were irritating, they thought. They wanted flowers, cakes, dates… every single week? They were practicing, and their pocket money went to buying even more strings. The kisses were more awkward than not. Romance wasn’t all as cracked up as it seemed to be. It didn’t seem right.

> _Maybe she’s not the right girl, a teenage Eddy thinks as he looks at his girlfriend walk towards her front porch, as he gazes at her from a distance after the obligatory goodbye kiss. There wasn’t the flutter and the rush of heat that he expected, the warm fuzziness of what he thought was “romantic”, only a strange, static feeling of uncertainty. What was he doing with another person in such close proximity?_
> 
> _Then he tried to summon up how she looked like. Long, black hair. Hazel eyes. What did her nose look like? Or for the matter, why was her face so fuzzy? He couldn’t really remember what his girlfriend looked like. Or the smile that he thought was enchanting. He felt like a lost little lamb, rather than the somewhat-grown man he thought he was._

Tottering uncertainly towards something he didn’t quite understand, out-of-focus and blurry. Longing for something – he didn’t know what. It was probably no surprise that she dumped him eventually, leaving Eddy a train wreck.

Even as they got older, it didn’t get much better.

Brett ended his own relationship not too long ago. What do I do, Brett thinks numbly, staring into the horizon, the colours of the sunset bleeding into each other and pulling the darkness of the night into place gradually as the blazing hot sun sunk heavily, as his heart did. How should he feel? Did he do the right thing? This was uncharted territory for him, as much as the entire relationship was. "It’s not working out," he’d said, "I don’t think we’re right for each other."

He genuinely liked her. She was adorable, her doe-soft eyes with its pretty crinkles as she smiled, her laughter a gentle and melodic sound. She was charming and funny. And so when she confessed her love for him in her lace-wrapped Valentine’s chocolates, he went with it. He wasn’t even sure he loved her, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He didn’t want her to cry.

Slowly, he warmed up to her, but there was always a thin sheet of ice between them, the hesitance in Brett’s heart wavering tenuously. He enjoyed spending time with her, he grew to care for her, tried to do what he thought a good boyfriend would do. But it wasn’t enough. Fundamentally, they lacked a sort of real, tangible connection, that made Brett yearn for her and feel an absence that would bleed. She wasn’t the one, he supposed.

As much as both of them knew that the girls they dated weren’t ‘The One’, break-ups or mutual separations still devastated them. It felt like a massive kick in the balls, reminding them that perhaps they weren’t as manly as they ought to be. They couldn’t be good partners. They weren’t worthy of love. They weren’t good enough. Such thoughts struck at their very cores and like spiderwebs spun, traversed the spaces between their individual minds, spreading the noxious lies that they were never good enough for anything – not a girl, not their dreams, their careers, their families and friends.

The only time they felt worthy was with each other. Eddy could always look to Brett as his unfailing, trusty support that he was enough, at least for one person. His very existence was treasured and remembered by Brett, and all his hesitations and his ambitions, he could bring to Brett.

Brett, for all his bluntness and aversion to emotions, only ever unveiled his insecurities and vulnerabilities to Eddy, and Eddy alone. They understood each other keenly and deeply, and even when they didn’t, they just listened, and waited out the storm with each other.

However, it never really occurred to them if the feelings they had for each other meant anything more. After all, they couldn’t be any closer, platonically speaking. Their relationship was closer, tighter than blood ties. They could deduce each other’s emotions, finish each other’s thoughts sometimes, they knew when to listen, and when to interject. Yet, it never occurred to them just how unique such a chemistry was. Two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly. To them, it just _is_ so.  
  


* * *

_  
January 2019, Brisbane, Australia._

“Truth or dare?” asked Alex.

Brett and Eddy were at a New Year's reunion at Alex’s apartment with their conservatory friends, a tradition that they’d all been faithfully keeping since they graduated. They were tight-knit, a community that shared so much with each other through their rocky years in university and with everyone taking divergent paths, it was difficult to meet up most of the time. Everyone endeavoured thus to keep their calendars free on this day.

They were sorry to have skipped it last year while on tour, but Brett and Eddy were sure not to miss this one, and as an apology, sponsored all the food for their cozy gathering. Unsurprisingly, the bubble tea was gone, leaving the hard alcohol. That meant one thing: the night was about to get wild.

And as usual, the traditional game that ensued chaos. It was now Eddy’s turn, and he groaned when he heard his name called. He was still sore on the ground, letting his muscles recover from that burst of energy he found within himself to bust out what he was pretty damn sure were killer moves on the dance floor for the last dare. Drunk classical musicians went all out with the sacrilegious pop songs, and Eddy’s hips obviously agreed to that.

“Dare,” Eddy replied confidently. He was sporting, that’s where the fun lies in, y'know?

Alex got up, walked over to the table and picked up a bottle of gin. Eddy groaned, as he grinned and cracked the bottle open and reached for a shot glass. “Three shots of this!”

The rest of them giggled watching Eddy wince and struggle to get the shots down. As a lightweight, he didn’t take well to alcohol at all even though he kind of enjoyed specific types, and had his fair share of pretty wild, alcohol-induced nights – his exploits were no secret. Unconsciously, the sight of Eddy’s flushed cheeks warmed Brett’s cheeks as the thought flitted into his mind: _mm… kinda cute…_

Brett had barely a pint of beer and his head wasn’t buzzing, so the clarity of that thought jolted him into strict sobriety. He tried to shake it off. It was weird, to say the least. Of course Eddy was cute… the fuck?

Keeping an extremely deadpan face, Brett was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn’t pick up on Eddy poking him with the bag of chips passed around. He snapped out of his reverie, hastily spinning it and noting that he’d been unusually distracted. Eddy gave him a questioning look, while the alcohol chugged its way through his system making him wobble a little as his gaze wavered, although he still had a goofy smile on his face, twitching at Brett.

“I’m fine,” Brett insisted.

Eddy squinted at him, and then turned back to the game. Brett was relieved that the alcohol had stopped Eddy from observing him too intently or asking any questions.

Eddy was obviously good-looking. His doe-soft eyes, his lopsided, earnest smile, his sculpted jaw, the way his height was just right. His enthusiasm. His soulful playing. Admittedly his body was looking kind of good too, with the working out they’ve been doing recently. _What girl wouldn’t want him_ , Brett mused. He was obviously not model-perfect, but it was hard to deny how endearing Eddy was.

An electrifying shudder struck Brett, as he suddenly recalled his first girlfriend. Sylvia. She had eyes that looked like Eddy’s: doe-soft and sparkly. Her eccentric humour and her ability to keep up with Brett’s random stream-of-consciousness thoughts. His second girlfriend, Rachel. A lopsided smile too and a goofy grin that made Brett’s heart melt, she was also a brilliant violinist, incredibly light and tender playing. Her favourite piece was the Sibelius Violin Concerto. Then Iris. She had the gentlest touch, but the loveliest laughter, tinkling like the wind, and a rich, warm and chocolate-y voice that made Brett more than willing to envelope her lips with his own. She tasted faintly like chocolate too, surprisingly.

All the girls he hadn’t thought about in the longest time, suddenly came to mind. What it focused on with perfect clarity was how… similar they were to Eddy. Eddy’s eyes. His voice. His smile. His laugh. His music.

In that moment, Brett realised that when he pieced together the things which he remembered the most about these people, that he once loved tenderly, he was looking at Eddy himself.

Panicking, he reached for the nearest bottle of beer to take a swig.

At that moment, the game bottle landed on him. “Truth or Dare?” Hannah asked.

“Uhhhh. Dare,” Brett mumbled, trying to disguise his turmoiled state of mind. He needed to do something to take things off his mind and derail the uncomfortable train of thoughts steamrolling through his mind without the slightest regard for his sanity.

“You’ve been going to the gym, I’ve seen your damned updates,” Hannah giggled, “so I dare you to lift Eddy! He’s pretty tall, but I’m sure you can do it!” Well.

The steamrollers thundered through his head even more aggressively. “Okay…”

Brett hesitantly got up and crouched at a suitable angle, his hands trembling as he reached for Eddy. How should he do it? He settled for a bridal carry instinctively, this guy was too goddamn tall for his own good. His arms reached under Eddy’s knees and back, clinging on tight, and… One, two, three. He heaved as he lifted Eddy, avoiding eye contact with him.

“WHEEEEE!!!” the slightly-intoxicated Eddy squealed, as he felt the sensation of himself flying, as Brett spun him around in an attempt to adjust the weight of Eddy and make it bearable without ending up collapsing to the ground with broken bones.

Eddy’s arms curled around Brett’s neck, as he pulled himself closer to Brett, holding on tightly as he continued to gleefully shout in excitement. The warmth in Brett’s chest bloomed, hearing Eddy’s childlike laugh chiming in his ears and sensing the softness of Eddy’s arms draped around him, the faint smell of his cologne intoxicating Brett a little more. Brett was laughing too, as he slowly came to a stop and with the last bit of energy he had in him, used the momentum to dismount Eddy on the sofa.

“Dude, you’re fucking heavy!” He dropped down beside Eddy, huffing and trying to catch his breath. Everyone else clapped, hollering “Yang! How long do you spend at the gym!” and “Woops” as they laughed in amazement.

They then continued on with their game, when they saw that Eddy was knocked out, clearly not in any condition to carry on. Brett didn’t know what the turmoil in his mind meant, but he wanted to avoid confronting the thoughts and turned his focus on the game, cackling along with the rest of them as the truths got juicier, the dares wilder, and everyone got more wasted.

Brett wasn’t a lightweight like Eddy and hung on through the game, focusing intently on immersing himself in the moment. “Truth or Dare?” Michael asked. “Truth,” Brett answered. He really didn’t want to move from the nice and cold floor and his limbs were pretty much asleep at this point.

“Who do you have a crush on?”

Upon hearing Michael’s question, Brett’s mind short-circuited. It was just white static, as he processed and tried to draw up something. He noticed Eddy in his peripheral vision and his heart skipped a beat. He swallowed, fumbling around for words.

“Um… I don’t think I’ve one… broke up with my girlfriend a year back and, uh, I haven’t tried to get back into the scene lately…” Brett smiled sheepishly as he pushed the words out of his mouth.

“Really?” Everyone squinted at him, not buying it. “C’mon, Brett, are you just shy about it? I could hook you up with someone if you’re too shy to admit you’ve got a crush or not!” Emma waggled her eyebrows and stuck her tongue out, holding up her phone with the Tinder app open.

“Nah.. nope.. nope…” Brett raised his arms in mock surrender. “Don’t attack me! I’m fine like this, I really am!”

“Why the hesitance?” Michael clapped his hand on Brett’s back and slung his arm around Brett’s shoulders, taking another swig of gin. His speech slurred, he managed to get out, “well, if you don’t want us to play wingmen, then it means that there’s a special sooooomeboooodyyyy! Spill it bud!”

“I mean, I don’t… think about it?” Brett smiled weakly, taking the gin bottle from Michael’s hands and pouring a shot for himself. Michael pouted and wrested the bottle back. “If you say so,” he responded, unconvinced.

Brett wasn’t lying, though. He never thought about romance all too much. He got over it, sometime after the breakup, and in the recent months, he realised that never had much cravings for touches or companionship. He didn’t feel the need to have to share things with someone. Attributed, most likely, to the fact that there was Eddy Chen.

Alex gave Brett what seemed like a reassuring smile. “While I’m not wholly convinced…. I think you’ll find that if it’s time, it’s time. Don’t worry about it, the right person makes himself known.” And then he winked.

While Brett’s mind wasn’t the clearest and took a few moments to process Alex’s words and actions, he did, nonetheless. What did he mean by ‘makes himself known’? Did he think ‘The One’ was already around? And wait…. himself? Who?

Again, he got derailed by his previous conundrum before the question. Eddy. If he put the puzzle pieces together, did Alex have suspicions as to who Brett was pining for? Brett downed the shot he poured for himself, urgently. He wasn’t sure what the alarm bells shrieking in his subconscious were telling him, didn’t know what to do with them, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Deadpan now, Brett, deadpan, he told himself.

The game drew to an end as more people started leaving in hopes of catching the last bus, those who were definitely too drunk climbing up the stairs to the spare bedrooms to crash, and the ones in the weird in-between state of piss-drunk and sobriety like Brett had to handle the clean-up.

His head started pounding as he cleared the rubbish off the table, but the menial task and said headache were welcome distractions from his problems. He washed his hands, and then joined Eddy on the sofa.

“Take the sofa, I guess, you know where to find me upstairs,” Alex yawned as he headed to his room along with some stragglers who didn’t want to drive while drunk. “Night, Brett.” He switched off the main lights.

The living room was empty, save for the two of them. A side lamp glowed dimly in the darkness. Eddy was still breathing softly, having been lulled into a sort of deep sleep long ago, that Brett couldn’t touch. Brett couldn’t control it, and he smiled, wrapping his arms around Eddy without a second thought. The thundering thoughts in his head melted away, turning into fluff and mush. Brett wanted nothing else but to stay here…

Eddy woke up with a jolt. The living room was still dark. All he knew was that one, his head was pounding, and he felt like heaving, and two, that there was a weight pressing on him, arms slung around his torso. Someone was lying on top of him. He looked closer and made out the figure of Brett, snoring lightly.

Eddy really would feel differently about having Bretty on his lap another time, but right now, he needed to puke his guts out. He forced his way up, gently pushing Brett down on the sofa in the space which Eddy had just occupied while trying not to wake him. God, he really wanted to enjoy that moment with Brett. But now he was fucking stumbling blindly to the kitchen. What a waste.

“For God’s sake Eddy, just how much did you drink,” Brett muttered as he was awakened by the change in position, despite Eddy’s best efforts. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and got up, slowly shuffling to the kitchen to pour a glass of water for Eddy.

When he reached the kitchen, he saw Eddy crouched over the sink, throwing up and spasming in pain. Running his hand up and down Eddy’s back, and drawing circles on it as he emptied the contents of his stomach, Brett stayed with him until Eddy gulped down the water proffered to him and felt better.

Brett was having a skull-splitting headache, but no desire to puke yet. He just wanted to go back to sleep. Preferably with Eddy.

“Thanks Bretty,” Eddy sighed as he rubbed his temples. “For staying with me.”

“I did have some drinks and I’m not going to total my car, so of course I’m here.” Brett groaned. Internally however, he thought it was warmer in his arms than it was in the car, or in his bed. He didn’t mind.

“Must have been cramped. I’ll take the beanbag, you can have the couch. Go to sleep, Brett,” Eddy muttered guiltily as he rubbed his eyes and padded over to the small beanbag, laid his head on it, the rest of his body on the floor, and slumped down as he fell asleep again.

Brett nodded without asking questions, although he really wanted to say: _sleep with me_. But he didn’t. With the sort of thoughts that he was having and his growing awareness of them, he only wanted to continue evading. Besides, he really needed sleep. It wasn’t the time.

Next thing they knew, they were forcibly awakened by the blazing sun filtering in mercilessly through the window with a burning glare, pushing their eyes open. Eddy was up, headed for the kitchen to get two glasses of water for them both by the time Brett propped his body up on the sofa.

The rest of the house was eerily quiet. Everyone was probably still asleep or too run over by their hangover to even muster the strength to get up. A couple of blinks, and Eddy was in front of him, holding out a glass of water for him. “How’re you feeling?” Eddy asked, looking intently at him.

“Other than feeling queasy, I think I’m alright,” Brett replied, nodding in thanks as he took the glass. Huh. He did this for Eddy too the night before.

“Same, but I think we need some food in our system. I’ll just order something and hope the rest of them,” he gestured upwards at their friends upstairs, “are awake by the time the food’s here.” He scrolled through his phone, tapping furiously at something.

“Good plan-“ Brett started, but instinctively got up, put down his glass and bolted to the sink to puke. Fuck. It burned. And just like Brett did, Eddy was now the one running circles on his back. Now sober, Brett was aware of that sensation and distracted himself from the hellfire that tried to upend itself through his oesophagus by focusing on Eddy’s gentle hands, lulling him to calmness. His soothing hands. Long, slender, callused fingertips but soft, enveloping his open palms. Just how much of Eddy did Brett subconsciously commit to memory?

“Okay. I think that’s the last of it. My stomach’s empty, I don’t think there’s anything left to spew, so that’s good,” Brett joked, smiling weakly as Eddy grasped his arm to help him back to the sofa.

“Well, what do you want for breakfast then? Got to keep that stomach happy,” Eddy replied, chuckling.

“McDonalds? Since we’re up so early after all. We can take a walk across the street. I’m betting those sleeping beauties upstairs aren’t getting up anytime soon, so we can take our time eating. They basically wiped out all the drinks, so I bet you they’re not going to be awake yet.”

“Brett Yang, you have the most amazing ideas.”

“I know I do, thank you very much. Now, let’s dig around for the spare toothbrushes and toothpaste. The stomach acid’s going to rot my teeth at this rate.”

“Don’t worry Bretty, you can look at my brilliant teeth to remind yourself of what you lost!”

“Fuck off Edward! Last I remember, you were puking your guts out too!” It was a happily ordinary morning, as the boys settled into their normal bantering. Following the rhythm of their normal lives, Brett set aside the complicated questions of his feelings. Not now. He didn’t want to think of what would happen if this changed.  
  


* * *

_  
February 2019, Brisbane, Australia_

Eddy has a girlfriend.

Eddy _had_ a girlfriend.

He didn’t know how to feel.

Honestly? He should’ve been used to it.

At this point, he’s lost count of how many times the breakup happened because of one or more of these reasons: he apparently didn’t spend enough time with her, he was too sensitive, he was always distracted, he was intense. And it wasn’t entirely wrong if one surmises that he was used to it. But a recurrence doesn’t make it easier, because he was indeed invested in his relationships.

He genuinely cared for them, even though sometimes their connection was based on simple indicators of “she’s pretty and funny and we get along”. Once he makes a commitment to anything, he gives his everything. Or what he thought was his all, anyway. Orchestra was his life, and for his non-musician girlfriends it probably made sense that his life alienated them, even though he didn’t mean to at all. But his last girlfriend was a musician! So it probably wasn’t that, right?

Or perhaps, he got it entirely wrong. The relationships were on an intellectual and biological level rather than driven by true connections and affinity. He dated with an end in mind – he could see himself married to a nice girl, settling down, and raising a family, living a life of domestic bliss. And relationships were biologically speaking, an impulse. Hey, a man had his needs.

Maybe it was that earnest desire to have a long-term, locked-in commitment that was too much of a burden on his partners? But perhaps that came off wrong to his partners: a façade of a relationship, that Eddy’s heart was never truly into it. He merely played the part of the man in a relationship, he did what a relationship demanded, but never truly felt the same level of understanding as he did with Brett.

And sometimes, despite being so busy with the singular focus of his life – making music, making a career out of music – he found himself wallowing in moments of loneliness, the desire to be held, touched, and consumed by love. A love that didn’t remind him of how difficult life could be. A life that was normal. Perhaps, it was the effects of the breakup talking on his behalf, manipulating his feelings and pushing him to the chasm of grief. As much as he felt like the relationship wasn’t genuine enough, he didn’t want it to end either. He wanted to be held, he wanted to be loved, he wanted to be _normal_.

And he was always aware of the strange duet he shared with Brett. It was always and only Brett, that he felt safe with. That he felt himself, alive, and soaring. Was it romantic? He didn’t know, except that being together with Brett would have been a lot more satisfying on the deepest level than with his string of sad, pathetic shells of romances trailing behind him, a constant reminder of his failure in that aspect of life. He didn’t want to possess Brett, he didn’t exactly want to fuck him, although he thought, he would do anything for Brett. Even that.

Brett was honestly beautiful to him. Growing up, it really wasn’t something he noticed. Boys were… boys. But when they passed their adolescence, they grew into their once-awkward features, filling out their figures cleanly and sharply. Brett’s features were distinct and smooth, like a god sculpted out of the finest marble and delicately lined with gold. A perfect roman nose, the loveliest crinkles that accentuated his eyes and a smile that lit up his entire face whenever he was happy – perfectly kissable, yeah.

The bold personality that he had, constantly pushing Eddy along, affirming Eddy’s truest desires and polishing them so that they could shine, Brett always supported him, in more ways than one. Brett was sensitive too, sensitive to Eddy, to what he hesitated about, what he was afraid of, what he was angered with, or saddened by. Never leaving him to wallow by himself, the same fearless personality, even when plagued by his own insecurities, pushed beyond them, and pulled Eddy, drowning in his personal ocean of despondence, to shore. Brett was beauty, inside and out.

He couldn’t imagine someone else filling his life, the same way Brett did. Pushed towards crazy endeavours, he knew their career couldn’t have happened without Brett. Unlike his aberrations of a love life, this part of his life was the only piece in his existence where being an aberration, a statistical anomaly in the world of classical musicians, felt right.

No matter what happened or where they found themselves, Brett was the one constant, guiding light in his life.

They were so tightly intertwined; they were forever constants to each other.  
  


* * *

_  
March 2019, Brisbane, Australia_

“Bro.” Brett looked down at the figure of Eddy, slumped into his seat. His eyes were glazed over, staring at empty space, headphones over his ears. He showed no sign of recognition to Brett’s presence, instead remaining lost in his thoughts, all alone.

Brett knew something was wrong. He had to let himself into Eddy’s house with his key copy, because Eddy responded to neither the doorbell or his texts and calls. They were supposed to be filming, so he knew Eddy was at home. He didn’t know what was wrong though, and that was the worrying thing.

Girlfriend problems? He vaguely recalled Eddy ranting about her a few weeks ago, but he thought things were already patched up. Furrowing his eyebrows, Brett pondered about what it could be. His heart constricted with fear and worry, aching at the sight of Eddy, clearly feeling an astronomical depth of emotions. At the same time, he tried ignoring the niggling feeling of envy, or jealously, licking at him ever since that party. Eddy’s girlfriend. It’s wrong, he told himself. Again, Brett decided, out of sight out of mind, don’t think about that. Not now, not when his _best friend_ was not okay.

Eddy was the more expressive of them two, and Brett could read his best friend like an open book. This time, Eddy’s disheveled hair and unkempt, unshaved state was hint number one. The damage wrought by his lip-biting (rivalling Brett’s own) was two. The downturned lips and unfocused stare made three. There were subtleties that Brett couldn’t put his finger on, but in a rare moment of intuition, he felt what Eddy’s heart did.

He pulled a chair in front of Eddy, sat down, held up the cup of coffee in his hands to Eddy’s eye level and trained his eyes on Eddy’s.

“Want some?”

The glistening, doe-eyed Eddy snapped into recognition, locking his eyes with Brett’s. He pressed his lips together and pulled a tight smile in response. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, but the mistiness cleared, ever so slightly. Pulling off his headphones, he reached out for the cup.

“Thanks,” Eddy said softly. Brett then pulled his chair, aligning it beside Eddy’s. Quietly humming, he sat down and waited for Eddy to speak.

It could take a while, but he knew Eddy inside out enough to know that finding the right words to express the right emotions could be a challenge. Eddy was deliberate, careful and above all, sensitive. But no matter. Brett was always there and would always be.

“Gimme a hug, bro.” Eddy’s voice cracked as he whispered into the air.

Without a second thought, Brett stood up, reached over and wrapped his arms around Eddy, cradling Eddy’s head to his chest, right arm wound tightly around Eddy’s back as he tried to soothe a trembling Eddy on the verge of tears. No words were exchanged as Eddy’s walls slowly crumbled, until the straw on the camel’s back inevitably broke down and, like a dam, the screaming started.

Brett always thought the word “heartbreaking” was clichéd, but this time, he really felt it. The splinter that rammed through his heart like discordant sharp notes, piercing and out of place. His heart contracted further and further still, shrieking alongside Eddy’s heartbroken, desperate screams muffled against Brett’s chest and reverberating through his heart, he wanted to hold Eddy close to him forever to protect him from everything in the world that dared hurt him.

Knowing nothing however, of what Eddy was against, made Brett grieve even more. But still, he held Eddy close, praying and desperately hoping that Eddy could be set free.

Eddy’s arms reached out tentatively, circling Brett’s torso, then latched onto Brett. He held on tightly, clutching at the fabric of the shirt, fists clenched but pressing them closer together even more. He was so choked up he wasn’t able to speak, and even if he could he wouldn’t know how to.

For the first time, he was speechless, in front of Brett. He realised just how much he wanted to tell him, but also the weight of doing so. Like a wave rolling over him and forcefully receding, the sobs reached a crescendo, his inhibition left him and his ebbing hesitation allowed him to open his mouth. And after he started talking, he continued, afraid that once he clamped it shut he would never dare to open it again, to continue telling Brett everything.

“She broke up with me, yeah, I bet you saw that coming, sorry I didn’t tell you hey, I just didn’t know how to process it anymore, I don’t know why I feel so uselessly conflicted and afraid of how to think about it, I hate being alone, I hate being useless, I’m sorry I’m such a burden, I,” Eddy stopped here as he gasped and then pressed on in panic, “you know, she said all I talked about was Brett, but that’s true, it’s cause you’re my everything you know, and what’s the point of feeling this way if it can never be? I don’t know what love means at all, what relationships are, and I can’t, I don’t know but all I feel is empty and tired of trying to latch on to things that aren’t meant to be, all wonky and out of place, I hate this, I really do oh my god Bretty tell me what to do, wait don’t…” he trailed off, and Brett, holding in his words, reached out for Eddy’s hands.

“It’s okay Eddy. Whatever it is, I will never, ever leave you. Whatever you’re feeling and thinking.” Brett swallowed, and squeezed Eddy’s hands gently, again trying to send him a reassuring smile. While he had his doubts, he didn’t know what to make of Eddy’s thoughts. But whatever Brett thought was inconsequential now. He only wanted to listen.

“I… I don’t know why I’m looking for a place, a person to fit in with, when I’m already right here with you.” Eddy finished lamely, and squeezed his best friend’s hands back lightly.

“Eddy Chen, are you telling me that you love me?”

“I love you.”

“Like… you want to fuck me?”

Eddy’s eyes flew wide open. “Well… I’m not sure I’ve thought of that, or if it’s what it sounded like,” he replied laughingly at Brett’s (endearing and somewhat innocuous) bluntness.

“But it’s not like I want that from you. In fact, I haven’t told you because I didn’t want to worry or confuse you. What would be the point in saying all these things, what sort of response should I be looking for?”

Brett inhaled deeply as he tried to organise his brain. “Yeah…” he began, grasping for something to say. He hadn’t expected this, not at all. “Does our friendship suffocate you because you want more?” He asked, trying to understand Eddy, trying to ignore the growing warmth in his cheeks.

“I will never trade this for anything else, you know. I’d rather be single than to lose you. That’s all the love I have, and no matter what, you, Brett Yang, will always be the brightest star in my sky. God, this is so corny,” Eddy buried his face in his hands, cringing. “Somehow, you know, it took me so long to realise that I was so uncomfortable with all my girlfriends because they weren’t you.”

“You giant doofus, of course I’m not! I’m the one and only Brett Yang!” he swiftly dabbed and Eddy cracked up, the relief of hearing him laugh washing over Brett, loosening the tense knot in his heart and he joined Eddy. “But seriously though, you know I had almost the exact same revelation. The only reason why I remembered anything in the slightest about my exes was because they reminded me of you. Like, that one who dumped me over the phone while we were at music camp? She has the same goddamned cute eyes as you do. And now when I try to picture her I can’t, I see your damned face instead.” Eddy’s smile grew wider, overwhelmed by what he was hearing.

“Brett, what are you saying?”

“I guess that was my way of saying, I love you too, idiot. But that makes two of us, taking us so long to realise it.” Brett stuck his tongue out, drawing Eddy to him again to put his arms around Eddy’s waist. “I’m sorry that it took me so long to tell you too, and I wasn’t sure if I ever would. I wussed out of making sense of my own feelings and refused to confront it. Thank you for having the courage to tell me, Eddy.”

An audible sigh of relief and exhalation. Brett took the plunge, and admitted:

“To be honest, I don’t know what love is either. What it means to truly and really be in love. But you’re not getting away from me anytime soon. I’m sure we’ll have our whole lives to figure out what it is and piece _our_ own romance together."

For the first time, Brett was confident in expressing his thoughts, because he had never been more certain about anything. Then he sat up straight, tilted his head up and moved in, pressing his lips to Eddy’s. Eddy responded in kind, and savoured the warmth, the feeling of _rightness_ , of finally being able to be true to his own feelings.

"It'll always, always be you." 

“I know. With you, this is home.”

**Author's Note:**

> (And then they spent their birthdays together and went to Singapore together and became absolute cuties forever and have flower bois photoshoots together and lived happily ever after uwu)
> 
> Initially a short drabble, my feels decided to drag this out, to explore in detail just how inevitable their relationship was. It's another how-Breddy-happened fic, yes. Not original, but the fic bunny wouldn't let me go, and my original storyline was dead in the ditch halfway through this. 
> 
> Perhaps this might become a series of oneshots-gone-wrong. 
> 
> All my thanks and love to my beta-reader (@enlaurement24) who encouraged me to write. <3 check out her fics!


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